


Seven Deaths in Seven Times

by Honorable_mention



Series: Through Caverns Measureless to Man [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Depression, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Immortal Zuko, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honorable_mention/pseuds/Honorable_mention
Summary: Zuko had died more times than most other living people, which was to say that he had done it before. Most of the time it hadn’t been on purpose, of course, but that didn’t stop it from happening over and over again. He couldn’t explain to you why, but it seemed he just wasn’t made to die like everyone else.In which Zuko dies seven times but can’t seem to stay dead
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Through Caverns Measureless to Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823935
Comments: 181
Kudos: 1861
Collections: A:tla, AtLA <10k fics to read





	1. The Sun Came Up Upon the Left

Dying was more painful than Zuko had expected. He’d thought about it before, laid in bed and watched the ceiling and thought about what would happen when he was dead, but nothing could have prepared him for what it really felt like. It was everything, it was nothing, it was each part of his body trying to escape out through his skin, pulling and pushing and so, so painful. He was a flame dipped in ice and a face held under water. 

Zuko screamed and cried for help, but he couldn’t tell if he was even making a sound. Cotton clouded the edges of his vision and forced its way down his throat. Gasping for air, he tried to wrench his hands to his throat but his fingers were acid-dipped and unyielding.

Azula stood over him, tears threatening to leap out of the corners of her eyes. Her hands hovered above his chest. Yet she didn’t move. Zuko felt so bad about what had happened. He didn’t want to scare his sister like this. Heaving breaths racked his body as he tried to sit up, hug his sister, apologize, reassure her.

Get it together, Zuko, don’t be someone your sister has to be careful with. He was strong, he could handle himself. Cotton fled through his ears, through his nose, out of the corners of his eyes as he tried to stop the darkness from creeping up on him. But it wasn’t any use, he realized, as his traitorous eyelids closed.

  
  


A tall man with a long white beard seemed to be upset with Zuko. Light flashed off the gold the man wore and sought refuge in the deep reds of his clothing as the two of them stood Zuko couldn’t identify. All he knew was that it was somewhere clean. That, the cleanliness, had been the first thing he noticed. It was a dazzling gleam that covered everything in the room. And what a room it was. A pale dirt floor that could have been where Azula had watched, shocked, as a burst of lightning hit her brother square in the chest, or that could have been the rolling sand dunes near Ember Island, or the sweep of their mother’s hand as she talked next to the turtle duck pond. 

The tall man cleared his throat and frowned. “You know who I am,” he said, and it was somewhere between a statement and a question. Zuko didn’t, but he was scared to tell the man that.

“Yes?”

“You shouldn’t be here, you know,” the man said. “This isn’t the way.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Zuko bowed his head. He could see the swirling dirt beneath his feet, could feel the colors of the room thrumming through his legs.

“It’s okay, I understand. Please don’t apologize; it wasn’t your fault.” The man still frowned, but there was something else on his face too. Zuko didn’t get the chance to figure out what it was before the man waved his hand and the ground slipped out from underneath Zuko’s feet.

  
  


He woke up gasping for breath. Tight arms wrapped around him and warm tears fell down his back

Azula was crying, and Zuko realized that he’d forgotten the way her nose scrunched up as tears ran down her cheeks.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

“I wasn’t though.”

“It’s too bad,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I thought I finally might get a chance to see our mother angry.” And Zuko couldn’t help it if he started laughing, loud and tense and wild. It fell out of his chest and smacked against the floor, but somehow that only felt like the natural course of things. 

His sister was laughing with him through her tears, still holding onto him so tightly he almost told her to let go for the sake of his poor lungs. It was nice, really, to finally see her laugh, to finally see her cry. She was only eight, but sometimes even he forgot that his sister was a kid too. Her humanity got lost sometimes in the whispers that filled the servant’s quarters, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It was, even when Zuko forgot the girl who liked to play on the beach with him, leaving only the girl that grinned as he fell down hard when they trained. 

  
  


The two of them made a silent agreement to pretend nothing had happened that day while training. Father would only have congratulated Azula on her skills, on the strength of the lightning she’d still rushed to show him the next day. And maybe, somewhere in Azula’s pricked-apart conscience, she was just guilty enough not to flaunt that specific day in Zuko’s face.

  
  


One day, when they were up late sparring and Zuko’s arms were covered in little burns from his sister’s fire, she told him that he’d laid there for ten minutes. She hadn’t known what to do, she said, watching the way his breath gave out and his heart stopped beating. It had haunted her for days, she said, until she’d done the same thing to some birds when out on a walk with father and his face had lit up with glee. The guilt had started to creep away, she said, but not the memory of those ten minutes.

  
  


Zuko traces the scars on his chest sometimes. They chase each other like veins or spider webs where his sister hit him. Dark and red and aching in the center, but soft pink like blossoms in summer as they got further out. He ran his fingers on the raised edges to remember that day as only a secret, just between him and Azula and the man with the white beard. Sometimes, when Zuko felt brave or when he’d learned a particularly difficult new move he’d consider asking his uncle if he knew who the man was, but then he thought better of it.

Zuko was only ten, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to get in trouble. Not with father, not with his uncle, not even with Azula. With no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you guys liked this story! Me and my brother watched all of A:tla together recently, and I love it and the fandom so much that I had to add my own little depressing story to it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope y’all all have an absolutely amazing day, and I wish you the best in whatever you do!


	2. And He Shown Bright, Upon the Right

Two weeks. That’s how long it took the infection to hit. They were only two weeks out in some little Earth Kingdom town, and Zuko could almost pretend he still looked innocent. The pain had finally ebbed. And it had started up again so slowly that he almost didn’t notice it. But once he did he realized it was a rolling pain. His face throbbed and he couldn’t do more than toss and turn and beg for an end to the pain, that horrible, horrible pain.

His uncle sat next to him, gently patted his forehead with a damp cloth as Zuko’s fire poured out through his sweat. Sometimes, when Zuko fluttered on the edge of consciousness, he thought he heard his uncle softly whisper a prayer, but that didn’t seem right.

As his burn wept through the bandages, Zuko imagined he was back in the room with his father. He was an observer this time, just like Uncle Iroh, just like Azula. He watched his father cradle his cheek with his slim fingers, watched the flames burst from his palm, watched himself beg for mercy.

“You need to eat,” his uncle said. He held a steaming bowl of something pale and nudged it towards Zuko’s lips. It tasted as plain as it looked, but it was warm and comforting nonetheless. 

That night he slept in fits. Uncle watched over him and Zuko wondered when the man slept. How could Zuko have not seen it before, he thought, the fact that he was a burden. Keeping his uncle from rest. Such a burden. On his father, his sister, his mother, his uncle. It would almost be better if he didn’t have to be alive at all, but that would make Uncle upset. It would be selfish to repay his uncle’s suffering with more pain.

  
  


Between the time the chirping insects sang and the birds began to hunt, Zuko woke up screaming. Flames burned his face. He could smell the scent of burning flesh and hair. It covered his clothes, his blankets, his pillow. It was in his nose and in between his fingers and thick in the air. He tried to yank himself off the bed, to run far away from all the people he’d disappointed, but it wasn’t any use. Limbs heavy as stone, he lay there unmoving.

A shadow flickered in the corner, the edge of a robe catching the moonlight, and then the man was back. The tall one with the long white beard who had greeted him the last time he’d, well, been like this. He didn’t dare say the word, but it flashed before his eyes. Dead.

“Please don’t apologize,” the man said, and Zuko realized the words had already been thick on the edge of his tongue. 

Zuko watched as the man picked up his uncle’s delicate tea seat and poured himself a cup of jasmine tea. He took a long sip and sat down next to Zuko, who watched him, too scared to see if he could move yet.

“Next time, please let yourself be taken to a healer. I promise it’ll do you some good. Your uncle’s a good man, of course, but he can’t fix this for you. Any of it Let someone else help you.” The man took a sip of his tea. 

“Of course, sir,” Zuko whispered, but his lips didn’t seem to move.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll know if you don’t keep your word. Oh, and Zuko,” he said, setting the cup down on the floor, “please do your best not to see me for a while.”

With a wave of his hand the man disappeared and Zuko’s arm twitched on the bed. The early morning sun steamed in through the window and a morning bird danced in the cool breeze. 

Uncle Iroh stirred in his chair and the wind rustled the corners of his beard. For the first time, Zuko looked at where they were. It was a simple dirt room, plain and sparse. The only ornamental thing was the tea set, and that looked like it had come overdressed to the party and was now looking for the first social out it could find. This wasn’t the room of a prince and yet it fit Zuko, didn’t it? A barren room fit a disgraced, disfigured boy.

“Uncle?” Zuko asked. He was still groggy, the memories of what seemed like moments before already soft with the haze of time. That didn’t stop the left side of his face from burning and twisting and humming.

“Yes Zuko?”

“Could you, um,” Zuko tried to swallow his pride but it threatened to crawl back up his throat, “could you call a healer for me? Not that I don’t think you're doing your best, I just think that maybe it would be a good idea.”

Uncle’s face lit up and a grin ran from cheek to cheek. “Of course! I’ll send Yanna out to get someone.”

  
  


A wispy Earth Kingdom girl brought a squat woman into the room with Zuko. The woman poked and prodded and Zuko nearly chased her out of the room with insults, but something in his uncle’s face stopped him. Within a few days, Zuko began to feel better again. 

He shaved his hair back so that no one could see the parts along his scalp that burned in the fire. Every morning he wrapped his face in new bandages and every evening he remembered what he looked like before a little less. Sometimes sounds and shapes on the left side of his face evaded him, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell his uncle that.

Later, as he stood in the ruins of the Air Temple, Zuko swore he would never see the man in the red robes again. He was stronger now. More than that he finally understood his purpose. He was going to regain his honor. He was going to capture the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t mind me taking all the chapter titles for this story from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope y’all liked this chapter! Get ready for some even more hardcore angst in the next two chapters before a more fluffy one with, you guessed it, angst. I promise I’m actually a fun person at parties.
> 
> A wonderful day to all of you!


	3. He Holds Him With His Glittering Eye

It was always painful for a firebender to freeze. They ran warm, even among other benders, even among other members of the Fire Nation. Racing flames dashed underneath their skin and kept them alive and breathing. Snuffing that fire out was an incomparable agony.

Zuko had watched the other firebenders die as he set out on that godforsaken boat with his uncle. Those poor men and women had been the first ones to die and the first ones to sink underwater. He’d tried to cover his ears, to cover up the screams, but they were imprinted into his memory forever. Uncle pulled dying benders out of the water, but it was too late for them. Even the non-benders perished screaming.

And what did the Water Tribe do? They celebrated. They shook each other’s shoulders and wept with joy at the deaths of people just like Zuko. 

Zuko wiped his eyes and tried to steady himself. He was past those grim, dark waters. Here it was lighter, and Zuko could even see the bottom of the sea on clear days in shallow straits. It was much better, and yet those screams still haunted him. No, he told himself, don’t think about it. You’re above all of that.

The cold had stopped plaguing him and his uncle within a few days. Shivers still shot up his spine when he ran his fingers through the water, but neither of them were in immediate danger of freezing. Zuko’s face had even begun to heal, the bruises fading and the cuts creeping closed. The problem now was that they didn’t have food.

Uncle was boiling sea water to get rid of the salt when Zuko first realized he was hungry. Only three days out and he’d been so stressed he hadn’t noticed the gnawing pain in his gut.

He didn’t want to bring it up to his uncle. Zuko was young, he was strong, he was royal. He could survive a few days without food. Others had suffered worse.

But could his uncle? He was already looking a bit slimmer around the middle. Zuko wasn’t going to disappoint anyone else. He’d already disappointed so many people. He’d already disappointed himself.

But he promised himself he wasn’t going to think about him, wasn’t going to think about the Avatar. 

He could allow himself a moment though, right? He didn’t have anything better to do, just wallow in his own hunger and self-pity.

Zuko had been so close to capturing the Avatar, so close to recapturing his honor and rekindling the flames of his father’s affection. Aang had been in his arms. He had been draped across Zuko’s shoulder immobile and clearly alive. And none of it had mattered, because Aang had still gotten away, still been able to do all those horrible things to the firebenders. 

Not Aang, he reminded himself. The Avatar. Zuko would start to forget how dangerous he was if he started treating the Avatar like a child. And if Zuko started thinking of him as a person with a name, Zuko would become weak. He’d start making poor decisions again, just like he’d done when he’d dishonored his own father.

Something shimmering flashed in the corner of his eye. A school of fish swimming right below the raft, plump and glistening. Mouth-watering. Uncle was asleep, he should rouse him, but no, they needed food. Zuko took a breath and jumped in.

The water was colder than he had thought it would be. It chilled him to his core and Zuko grasped at his chest, trying to get a breath of air. The fish were gone, if they’d even been there in the first place. Darkness floated overhead, the light of the moon further and further from his grasp. 

  
  


“I’m so sorry,” Zuko said as soon as he realized he could speak. Water dripped from the corners of his mouth. His chapped lips tasted like salt and iron. 

“Come here,” the tall man said, gesturing towards Zuko. His long sleeves floated around his arms and danced in the water. If they were even in the water. Zuko looked around, trying to make time before he went to the man. It was dark and chilly, and the man’s slim fingers, as slim as Ozai’s, gestured for him to come closer. There was nothing around but barely visible flashes of color and the man’s outstretched hand.

Zuko shook as he walked towards the man. His lungs ached and he was colder than he’d ever been in his life. Red robes grew closer, Zuko’s traitorous legs guiding his cowardly body.

“I need to know,” the man said, pulling Zuko towards his chest, “why you didn’t swim?”

“It was cold. And I was never as good a swimmer as Azula.” Zuko’s whole body tensed as he talked, waiting for the inevitable hand laid in anger upon his cheek.

The man smiled but his eyes were downcast. “I just needed to know what you thought” he said.

Zuko bowed. “I’ll do better in the future, I promise.”

“I know you’ll try.” The man let Zuko go. The pressure leaked out of Zuko’s shoulders and the breath he’d been withholding escaped his tired lungs. 

  
  


Zuko woke up on the boat as the sun’s first lazy tendrils snaked over the horizon. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, looking to see if his uncle was up yet.

“Zuko!” So his uncle was up. “You’ll never believe what I found this morning.”

“What?” 

Uncle held up a massive fish. “It was sitting on the raft this morning, fresh as any I’ve ever seen. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is, and I think it’s a Great Ahi-Bass. They’re truly one of the most delicious fishes you’ll find. Or it could be a Deep Sea Turtle-Snapper, which can be poisonous if cooked incorrectly.”

“Are you sure we should be eating it then?”

“I’ll try it first.” 

They cooked it by hand, ate it until the last bone. Zuko wasn’t sure if he’d ever tasted fish as good as that one before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I kind of just skip over season two? Yes! Was I originally planning to have a Blue Spirit chapter? Also yes! But, instead, this is what we have.
> 
> I hope y’all all have magnificent days and that the next thing you do turns out absolutely amazingly!!


	4. And I Had Done a Hellish Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, this is the chapter that deals most explicitly with self-harm and suicide

Zuko was disgusting. No better word could describe him, for that was all he was: disgusting. If only he’d let his sister take him prisoner, if only he’d starved to death out in the Earth Kingdom and stayed dead. That village had been right to hate him for being a firebender and the Fire Nation was right to hate him for everything he’d done. There was no reason he should be enjoying doing what he was doing this much.

The boy was a refugee, one brimming with anger from his toes to the piece of wheat he always chewed. Zuko could understand that anger. He was angry too. They’d both been so full of fury, so tired, so lonely, and then Jet had kissed him. Or maybe Zuko had started it, he couldn’t remember. But Jet was pressing him up against the wall, and his mouth was so wet, and Zuko didn’t want it to stop.

He shouldn’t be enjoying it. He should be pushing Jet away, but instead he grasped his hair and pulled him even closer.

“You’re really getting into this,” Jet said, and Zuko opened his eyes to see a little smirk cross Jet’s lips. 

“Don’t let me think about this.”

  
  


Zuko couldn’t sleep. He should feel guilty, and he did, he felt so guilty, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to meet with Jet again. To feel his lips, his hands, his hair, his mouth. 

There was so much building in Zuko’s chest, pulling him apart only to smash him back together.

He needed to meditate, to do something other than lie in bed and feel terrible. He sat down and breathed with the flame in his palm. In and out, deep breaths, in and out, relax. Forget what happened. The past was unchangeable, but he could still change how he felt in the moment.

The flame crept down his arm. It grew without Zuko realizing it. He looked down to see his whole forearm covered in flames. Cursing he blew out the flames. Frustration still gnawed at his brain. 

He paced across the room, playing with little sparks in his hand. Suddenly one of them escaped his control and burned his arm. 

He poured water on the wound to ease the pain and went to grab a bandage. Before he wrapped it though, against his better judgement, he gingerly touched the burn. It was warm and raw and oh. Oh that was good. That was grounding. He sank to the ground and tried to meditate, this time without a flame and with his hand pressed to the wound.

It was painful, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice. Zuko’s mind was clearer than it had been since he’d been banished. Uncle would be disappointed, but Zuko had been selfish before.

  
  


“What happened to your hand?” Jet asked, his beautiful hair glistening in the moonlight. Stars reflected in his eyes. 

“Cooking accident. Trying to help my uncle make tea.”

“That’s sweet, although I doubt your uncle would need any help. If there’s one thing he can do it’s make tea.” Jet smiled and Zuko couldn’t help joining him. It was nice up here, just the two of them, and Zuko moved closer.

  
  


Zuko couldn’t stop seeing Jet. That’s the excuse he gave himself for why he didn’t stop. Each time they met Zuko would crave more, more attention, more touch, more intimacy. And, each time, he would be filled with anger and disgust and fury. He’d sit on the floor after they parted ways and hold that flame to his body. He’d promise himself that this would be the last time, but then he’d think it over again and think that maybe he could afford one more hit of pain. 

It was fitting that he burned himself, left little scars around his ankles and across his hips. Burns marked those who were dishonorable and weak, and that was what Zuko was. No matter what he did he couldn’t stop thinking of boys, of men, the way he knew he should think of girls. He could just stop seeing Jet but he didn’t. 

So it went, and Zuko stopped counting the days. He’d see Jet, help his uncle, burn himself. Cyclical, normal, calming.

  
  


It had been an accident, it really had. Jet’s mouth had been on his, biting his lip, and Zuko had been enjoying it. Enjoying it enough that, for a moment, he didn’t think. His hands grew warmer and, without Zuko realizing it, small flames began to dance along his fingertips. 

Jet pulled away, a look of disgust strewn across his face.

“What?” Zuko asked.

“You’re a, a,” Jet stopped, his hands shaking. “You’re a firebender!” His eyes were alight with fury.

“I’m not! I swear!”

“I can’t believe I ever let you get near me. I can’t believe I ever let you touch me.”

“Jet, I can explain,” Zuko said, reaching towards him.

“Save your breath, I’ve heard you people need it.” He wiped his mouth and scowled at Zuko. “You’re lucky I left my sword with Longshot.”

  
  


Zuko had never lost control of his fire bending before, not like that. Sometimes when he was angry he’d be more powerful than he realized, but he’d never created flames on accident. Azula has done it as an infant, but Zuko had always been weaker than her. Bending was something he had to work at and the one time he finally felt free, he’d ruined whatever it was he had with Jet. 

He burned a longer scar on his thigh, nearly the length of his hand, thin and angry. Tears streamed down his face as he pressed his hand to the open wound as hard as he could. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled his nose and reminded him of how he’d dishonored his father. He didn’t mind. He deserved this for being as disgusting as he was. Zuko, everyone’s favorite freak. 

  
  


If only that had been the last time he saw Jet. Maybe Zuko would have been okay then. But life always found new ways to torture Zuko.

At first he hadn’t seen the boy sitting in the tea shop. They’d been busy that day and Zuko was trying to pull his weight for his uncle, even if he’d never admit it.

And then Jet had stood up, pulled out a sword, and accused them of being firebenders in front of all the store’s patrons. He was right, of course, but that didn’t stop the sting of betrayal. And how had he not even noticed Jet in the corner?

It was a poor decision to fight back against Jet, but Zuko had to do it. Their fight was raw; adrenaline, anger, unbridled sadness ripped through his veins and through his muscles. 

“I know you’re a firebender,” Jet seethed. He turned to the crowd. “Don’t let them fool you!”

“Are you going to tell them how you know?” Zuko asked. He meant it as a genuine question, but he couldn’t help it if it came out as a threat.

“Fuck you, firebending scum,” Jet said before spitting in Zuko’s face.

Eventually they arrested Jet, hauled him away to be taken who knows where. Zuko almost wanted to ask them to go easy, to not grab on to his arm with that much force, but he didn’t. As he saw Jet turn the corner and disappear, Zuko began to run back to the store. It wasn’t until he got there that he realized he was crying.

  
  


Zuko hated himself that night. He always hated himself, but it was different that night. There wasn’t a name he could find to explain it, but he knew deep inside that something had changed that day.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Ran his fingers along the pitted flesh of his face, along the lace patterned scar on his chest. He should be dead. He deserved to be dead. So many better people were gone because of this war, and yet Zuko kept surviving.

But, before, other people, other circumstances had killed Zuko. Maybe what stood between Zuko and serenity was nothing but his own hand.

It was selfish just to consider. Uncle had no one but Zuko, and he wasn’t about to take that from him. His uncle refused the fact that Zuko was a selfish, disgusting, unworthy creature. Somehow, he still loved him. But maybe Zuko could prove him wrong.

He couldn’t even bring himself to leave his uncle a note.

  
  


The tall man was expecting him with tea and Pai Sho. The board was already set up for a game, and the man handed him a steaming cup of tea as Zuko tentatively bowed and sat down. He took a sip. Nearly as good as his uncle’s.

“I’m sorry Zuko, I’m sorry for a lot of things,” the man said. He made his first move. 

“I don’t understand what you’re apologizing for.”

“I wish I could be there for you. I know you think you deserve what’s happening to you, but you don’t. It’s so much pain for one person.”

“That’s not your fault. And I do deserve it. I’ve dishonored my family. I’m a burden on my uncle.” He studied the board to make a move. He didn’t want to keep the man waiting. 

“Your uncle cares about you Zuko. Don’t let him lose another son.”

  
  


He could smell tea when he woke up. Uncle must have been awake first if the subtle hints of jasmine in the air were anything to go by.

Zuko went to help his uncle but, when he yawned, his uncle slid him a warm cup of tea and motioned for him to sit down. 

“You had a hard day yesterday. Drink your tea and breath.” 

That morning Zuko swore to never let his uncle see the scars that littered his body.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the most personal, but I swear things get less depressing from here. Also, I’ve been keeping a list of possible stories to write in this series, and I think Zuko finding out what happened to Jet would be interesting. What do y’all think?
> 
> Anyway! I hope y’all all have amazing days!!


	5. By Thy Long Beard and Glittering Eye

Sometimes Zuko forgot how mean teenagers could be. There was something deeply terrifying about being in that middle ground between childhood and adulthood. Your future unknown and uncontrollable. Responsibility without autonomy. And it only got worse if you were living through a world-changing war.

Zuko was used to the cruelty of children and the cruelty of teenagers. His own sister was a perfect case study. Balancing on the ridge between herself and their father, she never seemed to be able to stay standing without crushing someone else’s spine. But that was the kind of cruelty Zuko had grown up with. That was normal. The cruelty of average teens, however, was a different story.

Zuko was stewing in the corner of the party. He never should have let himself get dragged here. It was bad enough he was stuck on Ember Island, kept away from everything important. He didn’t need a bunch of acne-covered nobodies making him feel like a waste of space. 

“I’m hungry,” Mai said. If you didn’t know her, you’d probably think she was just sullen, resigned, aloof. But her arms were crossed, her shoulders stiffened, and Zuko knew that she was itching to leave, to at least do something.

“I’ll get you some food.” He watched her tighten her back against the wall. 

Groups of adolescents blocked his path, but he pushed through them, trying to keep his breathing under control. Be normal, seem normal, don’t burn anyone or look at the cute boy on the left. 

He’d done worse things than deal with teenagers. This was practically nothing.

When he got back to where he’d been a boy with soft looking hair and deep brown eyes was flirting with Mai. Or, rather, trying to flirt with Mai. 

“Here he is,” she said, pointing to Zuko. “My boyfriend’s back. I really should go.”

“He’s your boyfriend?” The boy looked between Zuko and Mai. “Really?”

“Yes. Now please go away.” She shooed him off, and the boy gave one more incredulous glance before walking away.

“Why would you say I’m your boyfriend?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought it might make him go away. Thank you for the food.” She pressed closer to him when he sat down.

  
  


Later that night, Zuko remembered why he liked his sister. As he watched her destroy the house with Ty Lee and Mai, he remembered the tightly-wound ferocity she kept in her chest, the joy he felt being beside her when she let herself be free. 

After the sun went down he settled on the porch. He knew that Lo and La wanted him to go to sleep at a normal time, but he’d never been one to take good advice.

So much had happened in so little time, and Zuko didn’t know how to start thinking about it. Well, he knew one place, but he couldn’t bear to contemplate it.

His uncle had been so proud of him. He’d believed that Zuko would be a traitor too. It was good he’d left him behind, good he came with Azula. But his uncle’s face haunted him. No, he wouldn’t think about it.

Here he had Azula. His sister, his beloved sister. He had Ty Lee. They trained together sometimes, and he was proud when he managed to beat her when sparring. He wouldn’t dare fight her outside of practice, because he knew he’d lose. And most of all he had Mai.

He wasn’t oblivious; he knew Mai liked him. Romantically. He’d have to be blind to not see it. Back when they were kids she’d tell him that, one day, they could get married and rule the Fire Nation together. Somehow, he thought she might still believe that. 

In theory, Mai was everything he should be looking for in a girlfriend. She understood him better than most people. She was strong, cunning, fun when you got to know her. And yet Zuko just wanted to be her friend. He’d try to imagine kissing her, touching her, and suddenly she’d become Jet.

He wished his uncle was there, and wasn’t that just the wrong kind of thought. Zuko didn’t need his uncle. He had Azula, he had Mai, he had his father. But he couldn’t talk to any of them, not really.

There was someone, though, he knew he could talk to. It was a risk, but what choice did he have?

  
  


The churning water crashed on the cliffs and roared in Zuko’s ears as he stood and watched it. Wind whistled and the night bugs faintly buzzed as he took a deep breath and dived in.

Cold burrowed into his flesh and pain raced through the side of his body that hit the water first. But he was still floating, so he sunk his head under the water and started to swim. Fast, harsh, messy strokes. He needed to be as far out as possible. He couldn’t afford to turn back now.

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours before his muscles began to ache and scream. He kept pushing, but he could feel himself losing speed, losing power. A victim of the current, he was adrift.

  
  


The man asked Zuko to make the tea that time. It was an herbal tea, one he didn’t recognize. Zuko wondered if it existed outside of wherever it was they were. Just like the last time he drowned, he and the tall man were somewhere half underwater and half nowhere at all.

“If I offered you too much advice, Zuko, none of it would be useful. I can’t tell you what to do. You need to make choices on your own,” the man said.

“I wasn’t-”

“You were going to ask me for advice. It’s okay, I know.”

“I’m just so lost. Please,” Zuko whispered, “please give me something. I don’t know what to do.” He hadn’t meant to cry, but sometimes things were simply beyond his control.

“I wish I could be there for you. But you know the decision you have to make. Trust yourself and you’ll make the right decision.”

The water, or the not-water, whatever it was, swirled around them. It pricked Zuko’s skin, warm and cool, chilling and burning. 

“But how will I know I’ve made the right decision.”

“You’ll have to trust yourself. And Zuko, remember to breathe.”

  
  


Zuko woke up sputtering on the beach. He spit out water and rubbed his eyes. At some point the sun had risen, bathing him in warm light. 

He heard footsteps crashing towards him and barely got the chance to look before arms wrapped him in a crushing hug.

“Mai was so worried about you. She’s practically frowning, she's so upset,” Ty Lee said.

“Tell her I’m sorry. I just went out for a swim. I needed to clear my head, that’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang shows up next chapter! Yeah! I’m already starting to plan out the next few stories in this series/universe, so please tell me anything you want to see!
> 
> Thank you for reading my story!! I hope y’all all get to see cute dogs, cats, or other animals of your choosing today!


	6. Still Treads the Shadow of his Foe

The Avatar and his friends had every reason to hate Zuko. Who wouldn’t despise the person who had hunted them for months? Well, Zuko didn’t hate his sister, not really, but that was different. He had an established relationship with her; to the Avatar’s group, Zuko was just the guy who hunted and hurt them.

But they were supposed to be understanding! He threw himself on the ground. The swampy mud seemed into his shoes and soaked between his toes, and a pervasive dampness set into his clothes and into his bones. It was no use. Even the badger frog watching him thought Zuko was good for nothing, if his ribbiting and lack of engagement with Zuko’s apology were anything to go by.

No, he just needed to relax, to breathe. Zuko could do this. He’d done harder things before. He’d talked back to his father, felt that lightning crackle through his veins and then rush across the room. If he could survive Ozai, he could talk to some kids.

Yeah, he was just going to go down there, introduce himself, apologize, explain himself, and they’d take him in. What could possibly go wrong?

  
  


It turns out, quite a lot could go wrong. Of course they hated him. Zuko was a disgusting, worthless traitor. He’d abandoned his uncle, brought dishonor on his family over and over again. It made him sound like a mirror, repeating all his failures, but there was no better way to express the constant disappointment that Zuko was.

He hadn’t quite known what to do when the Avatar turned him away, but he knew he had to stay. Somehow, he was going to help these kids, these actual children, defeat his father. That night, he’d finally managed to lull himself into a fitful sleep when, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he heard footsteps.

Flames ripped from his hands. He had to protect himself. Father, Azula, they were here for him. They were going to make him pay for his crimes. Not only did they know what he’d done to the Fire Nation, they knew what he’d done in Ba Sing Se, how he’d really felt about Mai.

It took less than a moment for him to realize where he was but by then it was too late. He’d burned the earth bender girl, the angry one with the milky eyes and aura of intimidation. Tears threatened to appear on her face as she ran away, and Zuko hated his firebending even more than he had before.

After she left, Zuko couldn’t help the guilt that filled his chest. That worry, that pent-up everything he thought he’d left in Ba Sing Se, was filling his arteries again. He had to let it out, though he knew it was bad to burn himself again.

But his uncle wouldn’t know. At this point, Uncle wouldn’t even care if he did. Zuko didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Every person who’d ever shown him an ounce of sympathy had been hurt, betrayed, dishonored by Zuko.

The burn was soothing in its ability to refocus his attention. As he held the little flame to his leg he felt calm again. This, this familiar pain, this was good. If he had to have the curse of being from the Fire Nation, he may as well use it for something outside of hurting other people.

He was able to sleep that night. Every time the guilt crawled back up his throat he only had to touch that spot on his leg and he felt calm again.

  
  


Eventually the Avatar and his group (the Gaang, as the cute water nation boy whose protectiveness over the younger kids didn’t seem like much of an act) reluctantly let Zuko join them. He was too grateful to ask why, and he thought he probably wouldn’t like the answer. Of course, maybe it was just that the giant flying bison seemed to like him.

Zuko didn’t fit into their group dynamic yet, but he was determined to learn. In between training Aang and doing chores the terrifying water tribe girl gave him, always served with a glare on her face, Zuko observed the way the group interacted with each other. 

He watched the way Aang’s eyes would look to the ground when someone was upset with him, the way he lashed out when he was frustrated, the way he called everyone buddy, the way he was ready to be the shoulder to cry on for anyone who needed it. The way Katara liked to pretend that she was full of secrets, impossible to read, when really she wore her emotions on her sleeve. She still missed her mother and wanted to make sure no one else had to suffer that loss. He watched Toph, though she was less easy to read. One minute she’d be smiling and punching his arm, the next she’d be throwing boulders at his head.

But Sokka. Sokka was different. His smile was contagious and, as they got to know each other, Sokka would always try to make Zuko laugh. He could be loud when he wanted to be, but it was the subtle moments, almost too intimate to share or acknowledge, that truly endeared Sokka to Zuko. It was the way Sokka would sit closer when he saw Zuko wasn’t eating much, just talk and talk until Zuko was comfortable, until he didn’t notice that guilty place in his stomach. It was the big things too, of course. The way Sokka fought better than anyone he’d ever met, and yet he’d rather use his sword to defend than attack. 

So Zuko had a problem. He was starting to like Sokka a bit too much. It would be fine if he only wanted to be friends, but things were never that simple.

No, he needed to get over it. Grow up. Even if Sokka liked him like that, which he did not, they were fighting in a war. There was no time for Zuko’s attempts at indiscretion. 

He needed a distraction. Helping his friend break his dad out of prison seemed as good a distraction as any.

The wind rushed past the airship as Zuko fed it flames. They talked for a while, not getting much done, but it was nice that way. Just existing and feeling safe with another person.

“You know, my first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Sokka said, gazing out towards the sky.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Yeah. She was amazing. I miss her so much.” They went along in silence for a few minutes, Zuko focusing on the flames, the feel of the breeze, the chirping of birds below. A small meditation.

Eventually Sokka spoke. “What about you, any Fire Nation girlfriends?”

“Fire Nation? No.”

“Ah, so the great Prince Zuko had a girlfriend from somewhere else!”

“I thought we were talking about you and the moon,” Zuko grumbled.

“I think someone’s avoiding the question.”

“There was someone once but it didn’t end well, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sure,” Sokka said, and that was the end of that. No reprimand, no need to explain himself. He was uncomfortable and so the conversation stopped. It almost left his uneasy, and yet it didn’t.

  
  


Sokka’s father wasn’t at the Boiling Rock, but his girlfriend was (or, as Sokka had put it, his sort-of girlfriend). Zuko stood outside the door of the cell while they talked and did who knows what else inside, and it cost Zuko his temporary freedom. Of all the people he could have been captured for, though, Sokka was at the top of his list.

Later, Sokka showed up at his cell. He had a plan for how they’d escape. He and his girlfriend, Suki, only needed him to get sent to some super-cooled box. It sounded awful, but what choice did he have? He’d do it for Sokka.

“Wait, Sokka, before you go, how did things go with Suki?” Zuko asked.

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. “It was awesome seeing her, but we kind of broke up. It had just been a while since we’d been together, you know, and we’re different people from the last time we met.”

“So I got sent in here so that you could get broken up with?”

“Yeah. Sorry. But hey, at least I’m single now, right? I’ll see you soon.” With that he gave Zuko a wink and walked out the door. A wink! How was Zuko supposed to take that?

  
  


Breaking out of the prison, it turned out, was the easy part. Traveling back with Sokka’s father was more difficult.

It was already awkward enough being around Sokka and Suki as they navigated friends again, Add the fact that Zuko couldn’t stop seeing Ozai in Hokoda? Well, things weren’t looking good.

Every single time Sokka’s father raised his hand to make a point, say something, do anything normal, Zuko couldn’t help flinching. He was waiting for the pain, the disappointment, the self-loathing. The sting on his cheek, the burn. Every time Hokoda raised his voice above a whisper, Zuko receded farther into himself. He was so busy trying to remain calm and normal that he didn’t notice Sokka walking up to him on his bad side.

“You know, you don’t have to keep walking so close to my dad if he makes you uncomfortable,” Sokka said. Zuko jumped, not expecting the voice.

“Wait, I’m sorry! You probably can’t see well out of this side!” Sokka looked apologetic as he spoke.

“What?”

“Was that rude? I just sort of assumed the whole,” he gestured to his face, “thing didn’t make it easy to see.”

“You’re right, it’s just that people don’t usually mention it. Although that might have more to do with the generally angry demeanor than anything else.” Zuko smiled as he watched Sokka laugh. It was such a beautiful thing to see.

“Yeah, you haven’t earned the title jerkbender for nothing. But seriously, you can hang back here with me instead of with my dad. I promise he won’t mind.”

At first, Zuko wasn’t going to take him up on the offer. But that was only at first.

  
  


Of course Azula had to come and ruin everything for him. He’d finally begun to be accepted by the group, even if Katara was still chilly to him. 

And then his sister had come and tried to destroy everything that Zuko had built here. The thin trust and the shaky relationships. She could never dare to see him happy. He had to be beneath her in every way. She had to succeed where he had failed.

Zuko knew that she not only wanted to get Aang, she also wanted to capture him. Another time, another place he might have let her, but he had other people to fight for now. He had Aang, he had Toph, he had Sokka.

He knew he had people to die for as he leaped to stop his sister.

  
  


“While no circumstances in which we meet are happy, I like to think this is as close as we can get,” the tall man said as he handed Zuko his cup of tea. A deep black tea this time, rich and firm.

“Thank you?”

The man laughed, a gentler sound that Zuko had expected. “I’m sorry, that was terribly rude. You know that I’m always sad to see you. But I’m also so proud of you. Zuko. I always knew you could become the person you’re trying to make yourself into.”

“You sound like my uncle.”

“There’s no greater compliment you could give me. Your uncle’s a good man. AndI’ve heard he makes the best tea.”

“That’s true.” Zuko took a sip of the not-quite Iroh tea. “I just wish I hadn’t disappointed him.”

“I won’t tell you the future. But Zuko, I believe that all the people you need will come back to you some way or another, as long as you let them.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said as he finished the last of his tea.

  
  


He woke up just below the temple, splayed out on the hard stone ground. His sister’s ship flew around with Appa in the sky. Zuko knew what he had to do. He began to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gaang’s here! 
> 
> I’m having a lot of fun writing this, and I’m really excited to expand this universe later in the series.
> 
> Also, me and my brother went on a ten-ish mile hike today and it was absolutely amazing. I was almost too exhausted to post this before realizing that I’d already written and edited it ahead of time and then forgotten like an idiot.
> 
> Anyway, I hope y’all all like this chapter and that you all stay safe, healthy, and as happy as possible!!


	7. Upon a Painted Ocean

Dinner was awkward to say the least. A heavy silence permeated the air as they ate; no one wanted to be the first to break the self-imposed silence. But, eventually, something had to break. Toph spoke.

“So is no one going to bring up the fact we all watched Zuko die? And now he’s not dead?”

The silence returned. Zuko tried to bury his face in his bowl to avoid making eye contact with anyone else. Maybe, if he said nothing, Aang would start trying to entertain everyone with an air bending trick they’d already seen and the whole incident would be forgotten.

He was never that lucky. 

“I know all of you are pacifists and everything, but come on. Tell me it’s not weird!” Toph seemed intent on getting an answer from Zuko, so he sighed and put his bowl down.

“What happened was,” Zuko said, realizing he didn’t have an answer yet. Should he tell them the truth? Or should he come up with a better explanation, something more palatable. “Well, I did fall, you guys saw that, but I managed to grab on to a ledge. I got a little battered, I’m fine though, and then I just had to climb back up. Unfortunately, that took a bit of time. But that’s all it was.” It wasn’t a lie, more or less, just an absence of the complete truth.

“Well, we’re glad you’re okay,” Suki said. “Toph and Sokka might try to convince you otherwise, but they were worried about you.”

“Uh, thanks guys. I’m glad that you’re glad that I’m not dead.” Real smooth, Zuko, real smooth. 

After that the normal banter resumed, although Sokka kept glancing over at him across the fire, and a thin vein of tension still snaked through the group every time Zuko spoke or was mentioned. Maybe that was the most normal part of the night, though.

After dinner, Zuko customarily set up his sleeping bag away from the group’s tents. As he was getting ready to settle in for the night, he heard footsteps on his bad side. They were louder than Aang’s, quieter than Toph’s. Ah, he recognized those footsteps.

“Doesn’t it get cold out here at night?” Sokka asked, plopping down on a dirt next to Zuko.

“Sometimes, but I’ve been through worse.”

“Like the poles?” Sokka said with a smile. It was such a beautiful thing, that smile, and Zuko wanted to preserve it in his memory for the rest of time.

“Yeah, exactly.” He rolled his sleeping bag out. “I mean, I once swam through the North Pole’s waters.”

“Disregarding that information, which we are definitely going to get back to later, you don’t have to take out your sleeping bag. I was gonna ask you if you want to share my tent.” Zuko’s eyes got wide. “Not in a sexual way or anything! It’s just that Suki thought it would be weird for us to be together, and you seemed cold out here.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” 

“Really? Because it’s no problem.” 

Zuko thought for a moment. He could save his pride and sleep out under the cold, lonely stars. Or he could go with Sokka and risk those thoughts he shouldn’t have creeping back inside his brain. Finally, he decided to take the latter option.

  
  


Zuko didn’t know what he thought of Ember Island. On the one hand he remembered his mother, and those memories, no matter how Azula tried to curdle them, were always sweet. It reminded him of his sister’s humanity, and he needed that reminder every day they were apart. But the island also bombarded him with pictures, memories, fleeting thoughts of his father. It was a place of deep remorse and deep love. He had lived and he had died here. And, it was the first place he ever kissed Sokka.

It was after their day on the beach, which would have been fun if they weren’t on the verge of finally defeating his father. They should have been training, but instead they were playing with sand and wasting the best firebending hours in the water.

Zuko was still frustrated that night. Could no one see that they needed to defeat his father? Ozai would happily see them all killed, and these children were playing. 

“Hey, man, what’s going on?” Sokka asked. Zuko jumped, half a second away from hitting Sokka with a burst of fire.

“Come on, you can’t sneak up on me like that. You don’t want your face to end up like Toph’s feet.”

“Fair, fair. No one wants anything to happen to my beautiful face.”

“Was that meant to be self-deprecating?”

“Oh! So Zuko knows big words!”

“At least I went to school. I still don’t know how any of you learn anything down at the South Pole.”

“We get by,” Sokka said. He settled down on a large stone near Zuko and waved absentmindedly next to him. “Here, sit down.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Sokka furrowed his brow. “Just sit down for a minute. You look so stressed I’m surprised you haven’t started ripping your hair out yet.”

“It’s just,” Zuko said, stopping for a minute before sitting down next to Sokka, “I’m worried. What if Aang can’t defeat my father?”

“Oh come on, Aang could murder all of us in an instant if he wanted to.”

“As the only person who’s ever been opposed to you guys, I’ll take it as a compliment I’m not dead.”

“He’d never actually hurt you,” Sokka said, moving closer so their thighs touched, “you can trust Aang. You can trust all of us.” He paused. “You can trust me.”

And they talked and Zuko felt safe. He couldn’t remember quite how it happened, but then they were kissing, Zuko’s hand in Sokka’s hair.

Aang needed to defeat Ozai, because Zuko couldn’t lose this.

  
  


Azula looked bad. Worse than usual. He could almost imagine someone had dragged a towel across her face, smearing lipstick and eyeshadow across her chin and cheeks. Her hair had been cut, badly, and her usual swagger was replaced with a lilting step. Nothing about her reminded him of his little sister. 

Fighting Azula was always different than fighting the rest of the world. She fought with the backing of sheer power. Strength followed every blow, but she was smart. She knew how to time her hits, how to measure out her energy so she kept the fight interesting but always maintained the upper hand. Nothing could rival the fear she instilled in your bones, the way your knees quaked from exertion while she laughed.

But this time the balance was off. She wasn’t holding back. No, she was hurling everything she had at him, blow after blow after blow. 

To fight Azula, this time, he had to be flexible.

He had to be defensive, acrobatic, open like Aang. Measured, smooth, powerful like Katara. In-tune, sturdy, confident like Toph. He had to pace himself, be smart and thoughtful like Sokka.

For the first time he truly held his own against his sister. He wasn’t winning, not quite, but he wasn’t losing, and that was something to be proud of. He heard his uncle’s voice in the back of his mind encouraging him. He could do this.

And then he saw the lightning bolt arching towards Katara. He knew what he had to do.

The lightning flashed through his chest when it hit. Electricity raced from the wound to the tips of his fingers. It was agonizing as he burned from the inside out. His throat constricted as the pain shot through his lungs and his stomach, breathes living and dying before they left his body. He could see Katara doing something with his sister, he needed to help her, but his heart was fading. Darkness filtered his vision and that familiar cotton filled his mouth.

  
  


“Please! You have to let me go back!” Zuko screamed. He was standing in the courtyard. He could see his own dead body as time slowly drifted past. Katara was fighting his sister in slow motion and he needed to be there. But instead he was stuck in this almost-dimension. Dead.

The tall man emerged from the shadows on Zuko’s left side. He held out a cup of tea, which Zuko took and gulped down. It scalded his throat as he swallowed.

“You’ve never been this anxious to get back,” the man said, smiling. “I won’t keep you.”

  
  


Zuko woke up to a pounding pain throughout his body. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katara rushing towards him.

“Where’s Azula?” He whispered through parched lips.

“I got her. It’s okay.” And then he fell back into unconsciousness.

  
  


Sokka was waiting for him when he woke up. He was half-asleep in a chair next to his bed, but he stumbled awake when he heard Zuko move.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. Katara said you shouldn’t have survived.” Go figure. “But I promised her you were going to be fine. And you are!”

“I wish I was still asleep though. My whole body burns.”

“Yeah, Katara said that might happen.” Sokka looked apologetic.

“It’s not your fault.” Zuko winced as he sat up. “What happened to Ozai?”

“He’s gone. Aang took away his bending.”

Still groggy, Zuko murmured, “that child is such a badass.” Sokka laughed.

“Yeah, he is. But so are you! And, before you stop me, I’m complimenting you.”

“You don’t have-”

“Nope. You deserve it,” Sokka said. “By the way, your uncle’s waiting outside. He’s dying to see you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone make tea with as many nerves as he did.”

Zuko watched as Sokka leaned out the door and called for his uncle. He smiled. He didn’t know what he needed to do, but that was okay. He had people who cared about him, and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue’s coming out tomorrow! I promise the Gaang actually finds out in that chapter.
> 
> But anyway, I hope y’all like it! I was an idiot and originally wrote this in a horrifying conglomeration of English, Spanish, and Italian that I almost posted. Luckily I fixed it, so y’all don’t have to suffer through that.
> 
> I hope y’all have a wonderful day, and thank you so much for reading!!


	8. Epilogue

Things weren’t perfect after Aang defeated the Fire Lord, but they were good. Better than Zuko ever remembered things being. At least they were so far, and Zuko had only been conscious for two days.

Uncle and Sokka got along far better than they should have, each sharing stories about Zuko as he (and he would never admit this to either of them) pretended to pout while secretly savoring the moment. It wasn’t long before his uncle started patting him on the shoulder and telling him that things were difficult, buddy. Sokka tried to explain that he was misquoting the phrase, but that may have been part of the reason Iroh enjoyed it it. He got to mess with both Sokka and Zuko at the same time.

If Zuko stopped to think about it, he might have been shocked by how safe it felt to have Iroh and Sokka at his bedside. How natural.

They were sharing tea in Zuko’s room when Katara rushed it. She’d been busy as the only decent healer in the Fire Kingdom, as she claimed, and she’d been spending less and less time with Zuko as it became apparent that he wasn’t going to die. In fact, most of her time with Zuko was spent trying to convince Sokka that his leg hadn’t healed enough for him to be doing whatever stupid plan he and Aang had that hour.

Zuko still wasn’t sure if he and Katara were friends exactly, but at least he knew she wasn’t going to bend his blood or murder him and dump his body somewhere it would never be found.

“Katara! Back with your magic water!” Sokka said, beaming up at his sister.

“It’s not magic,” she replied with a sigh.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She glared ice daggers at him as she bent her water out of its pouch on her hip. With grace she began to work on the wound on Zuko’s chest.

“You’re not going to get an infection at this, but unfortunately there’s going to be a scar,” she said, pointedly talking to Zuko and ignoring Sokka before she bent the water back. “How much pain are you feeling?”

Zuko shrugged. “Not much.”

“That’s good. Let me know if it does hurt and I’ll try to find you something. And I’m sorry again that I can’t do anything about the scar.”

“It’s really fine,” he said. “How much harm can one more scar from my family do?” Zuko laughed, although, looking around the room, he began to realize that might not have been the best decision.

“One more?” Sokka asked, a slight creak in the back of his throat.

“Well yeah. I mean,” he pointed at his face and the lace-pattern scar on his chest, “you guys did know about these right?”

“No,” Katara and Sokka both said, that same look of worry copied across their faces.

“Oh yeah, my dad and sister gave me these. Although Azula’s was admittedly less intentional.” 

“I-” Katara said, seemingly trying to solve some complicated labyrinth of words, “I need to grab some air.” She turned around and walked out of the room.

“I should go and make sure my sister doesn’t commit murder.” Sokka laughed, but his eyes were also filled with concern. He shot Zuko and Iroh an apologetic glance as he followed Katara out the door.

Neither Zuko nor Iroh spoke for a moment. Uncle sipped his tea, which was much better than anything Zuko had tried to make for the group. Just the right heat, right steeping time, Ruth leaves.

“What was that exactly? Is there something I’m not getting?”

“There are many things you haven’t yet to understand, nephew,” Iroh said. He continued to sip his tea before picking up the tea pot. “More tea?”

Zuko gladly accepted.

  
  


Aang had always been a spiritual kid. Zuko knew this. You could only spend so many hours meditating with him before you realized that beneath all the boundless energy he was remarkably good at all the spirituality stuff.

So, really, it should have come as no surprise that he would eventually meet the tall man in the spirit world.

“Hey Zuko, what in the actual fuck!” Aang yelled, running at Zuko, who sat in shock next to Katara, Toph, and Sokka. He’d never heard Aang curse before, and there was something deeply dissident about hearing profanity come out of the mouth of the sweetest, smallest (Toph notwithstanding, as the sheer fear she imitated mitigated her short stature) person Zuko knew. Something terrible must have happened.

“What are you yelling about?” Toph said, tasting the sea prunes Sokka had laid out before sticking her tongue out and sliding them across the floor.

“Zuko! I met this spirit today, and he gave me tea, and, just. Was Zuko never going to tell us that he’s, he’s,” Aang’s flustered hands moved with excitement by his head, “he’s died before?”

“It didn’t seem important.” Zuko took another bite of rice. “We were busy with other things.”

“So it’s true.” Aang’s hands dropped to his side.

“That explains why you lied about falling into the gorge,” Toph said.

“You knew about this and didn’t say anything?” Katara asked.

“Sparky seemed self-conscious. I didn’t want to pry.”

Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many times has this happened?”

“Eight or nine I think, I haven’t really been keeping track.

“Babe,” Sokka said softly, “your self-preservation skills are terrible if you’ve died that much.” Zuko couldn’t tell if he was trying to make it into a joke, but soon he was pulling Zuko into a hug. 

“Can I?” Aang asked, and Zuko nodded. He wrapped himself onto Zuko’s other side, and, before he knew it, Zuko was the center of a massive group hug.

It was comforting, safe and warm. Zuko closed his eyes and leaned into it.

There was no way for Zuko to know what his future held. But he felt lucky that he was able to begin this long journey, whatever it turned out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s complete! Although I do plan to add more stories to this collection (right now I have three planned out, but I’d love any suggestions!!).
> 
> I got my last AP scores today, and I’m finally done with the College Board! A true cause of celebration if I do say so myself.
> 
> I hope y’all liked this story! I’ve really appreciated everyone’s comments and kudos, and I really do hope y’all have wonderful days, weeks, and months!!


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